


Just Let Me Cuddle You

by whenshewrites



Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [46]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Derek Hale Deserves Nice Things, Derek Hale Loves Stiles Stilinski, Derek Hale is Bad at Feelings, Derek Hale is a Mess, Fluff, Humor, Idiots in Love, M/M, Oblivious Derek, One Shot, Originally Posted on Tumblr, Pining Derek, Pining Stiles Stilinski, Stiles Stilinski Loves Derek Hale, Stiles Stilinski is a Mess, The Hale Pack - Freeform, The Pack Ships It, Touch-Starved, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-08
Updated: 2020-07-08
Packaged: 2021-03-05 02:07:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25136626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whenshewrites/pseuds/whenshewrites
Summary: Stiles is determined to show Derek some love. But Derek is being... difficult.
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Series: A Collection of One-Shots and Tumblr Prompts [46]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1956889
Comments: 19
Kudos: 532





	Just Let Me Cuddle You

See, the thing was, Stiles knew werewolves were clingy.

He’d come to realize this from the moment he started spending more time at the loft. There was always a werewolf near or around or on him. Like, literally on top of him. Erica would plop down in his lap when Stiles was trying to do homework, Isaac would drop his feet into Stiles’s lap when he was watching TV, Boyd would lean up against his side and take an actual nap. 

Stiles had come accustomed to the fact that werewolves were clingy.

Except for Derek Hale.

Derek Hale, the big bad ‘I am the Alpha’ werewolf of Beacon Hills never got within five feet of Stiles. And he didn’t understand it; maybe he smelled bad, maybe Derek didn’t go for teenage boys (that sounded so much better in his head). But whatever the case was, Derek avoided him like the plague.

And at first, Stiles didn’t understand it. Then he felt vaguely hurt. And then, when he tried to sit next to Derek during pack movie night and the man purposely stood up and moved away, Stiles decided to do something about it.

Because dammit, if Derek wouldn’t be touchy feelzy with him, then Stiles would be touchy feelzy with Derek. He was determined to train the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills to accept some love.

(Wait, not love. Totally not love).

It started with the little things. 

Stiles had been spending his summer at the loft more than he was spending it anywhere else and he’d come to notice that the others were too. Jackson had started coming to the pack trainings and of course, Lydia came with him. Scott was hanging out a lot more often too. He’d even started letting Derek attempt to teach him the ways of “Alpha” which were actual words that came out of his mouth and that made Stiles laugh for two days straight.

The point was, there were werewolves everywhere now. The entire pack was always around. And Stiles was getting a personalized game of ‘space invaders’ except for when he and Derek were in the same room.

So he had put together a plan. Or, less of a plan and more of an outline. A faint idea. Something he hoped would end up working, but he couldn’t exactly be sure.

Because it couldn’t be that hard to make excuses to get close to Derek, right? Stiles was determined to prove to him that not all touch was wrong. He just had to choose his battles.

Stiles was terrible at choosing his battles.

First, it was Stiles coming over long before training and purposely standing right next to Derek when he was making coffee. When the man would give him a strange look and try to shift away, Stiles would only grin and follow, which usually ended up becoming a game of tag around the kitchen counters.

He stopped doing that when Derek finally got tired and tipped a glass of cold water over Stiles’s head. Stiles had gone home that day cold and wet, and even more determined to make Derek accept him, even if he was a furry asshole.

From there, it became a pack night thing. Stiles would purposely wait until Derek had sat down and there was no more space anywhere else before dropping down at the end of the couch, situating so his legs were holding Derek captive against the cushions, and then he’d pretend he didn’t hear the man’s growling as the rest of the pack gave him looks like he was going crazy.

He wasn’t going crazy. Stiles just had a plan.

That particular plan ended up with him on the ground and Erica laughing hard enough to snort soda out of her nose, so Stiles thought maybe he should think things through a little more next time.

He was starting to wonder if he was… well, annoying Derek. Because the more Stiles tried to get all touchy-feely, the grouchier Derek became. It got to the point that even when Stiles brushed past him by accident, Derek would flash his eyes and show a bit of fang.

When training came one of the mornings four weeks later, Stiles wasn’t feeling so good about his supposed ‘plan’ anymore.

He moved over to plop down at Lydia and Allison’s side. There were always three out of five of the werewolves that would get shirtless during training and the three of them often lived for it.

Stiles would like to say he absolutely did not salivate over that though, thank you very much. He never ever felt a little gooey every time Derek knocked one of the betas flat and he could always keep his heartbeat and emotions in check when the man would glance over with red eyes.

That would be a lie, but Stiles would say it anyway.

But unfortunately, there was no show today. Because unfortunately, today was the day that Derek was more grumpy than usual and decided all onlookers could participate in training. 

Not that Allison needed it— she didn’t hesitate at the opportunity to kick Jackson’s ass. Lydia flat out declined— and nobody ever dared disagree with her— but Derek wouldn’t take no for an answer when Stiles tried to do the same.

Which might have been how he ended up facing down a smirking Erica with a feral look in her eyes. Stiles was pretty sure today was going to be the day he died.

The moment Derek said ‘go’, Erica was moving forward, Stiles was flailing away, and then he was being flipped onto his back and slammed against the floor.

The breath punched from his lungs. Stiles laid there for a moment and just gasped at the ceiling, stars circling above his eyes. Faintly, he was aware of Jackson laughing himself into a second death, and Erica looking immensely proud, and then there was a face hovering over his own as Derek kneeled at his side.

“That was terrible.”

“Gee,” Stiles gasped, still trying to find his breaths. “Thanks, Sourwolf. Fragile human here, in case you’ve forgotten. I get winded walking up the stairs into this place.”

Standing beside Erica, Boyd’s grin widened. Derek only rolled his eyes and grabbed Stiles’s hand, pulling him to his feet.

“Your position was off from the start,” he said. “You retreated back instead of moving forward and didn’t even attempt to fight back when Erica came at you.”

“Yes, Derek, that might be because I was terrified for my life.”

“You need to know how to fight, Stiles, if you’re going to be facing the things that threaten Beacon Hills with the rest of the pack.”

Stiles glowered at him. “Excuse me, asshole, but I have a very fine baseball bat. One that I recently upgraded to metal, I’ll have you know. It can easily flatten skulls and if you’re not careful, I might have to give it a test run on angry Alpha werewolves.”

Derek’s eyebrows drew together and he just glared. Stiles sighed, brushing past him.

“Whatever, Derek, I can fend for myself. Just next time, don’t pit me against a homicidal blonde maniac on werewolf steroids— no offense, Erica—”

Suddenly there was a hand on his arm and Stiles found himself being flipped again. He hit the floor with a startled “uurff” and a few feet away, Scott looked horrified.

It took Stiles’s brain a moment to catch up. But when it did and he realized that it was Derek pinning him down, frustration rose in Stiles’s throat. He tried to wiggle loose but Derek’s grip only tightened on his arm and pain lanced all the way down from his shoulder. Stiles squeaked and went still, and Derek placed a knee on the small of his back, leaning forward.

“Would a baseball bat protect you against that?”

“Let me go grab it and we can try again asshole!”

“You need to know how to defend yourself without a metal pole,” Derek said. The man’s warm breaths against his ear would probably send shivers down Stiles’s spine on any other day but this time, all he did was glower harder.

“Get the hell off me, Sourwolf! Or I swear to god, I’m going to put wolfsbane in your coffee the next time you’re not looking.”

Derek sighed, but moved back, letting go of Stiles’s arm. He winced as he shifted it and slowly pushed himself up, his entire body screaming in pain. Jackson looked amused, Lydia just looked exasperated, and Allison looked a little sympathetic. Stiles ground his teeth together and turned to glare at Derek.

“Maybe next time, I’ll just know better than to turn my back asshole werewolves. Is that a better plan?”

“Stiles—”

Stiles just flipped him the bird and stalked out of the loft. He didn’t know why the hell Derek felt the need to call him out and put him in the spotlight because Stiles could defend himself just fine, thank you very much. 

He didn’t need the man’s help.

Lydia was allowed to go with the pack wherever they went and Derek didn’t get all grumpy with her. Yeah, the banshee could probably scream his ears out, but still. Stiles could be very deadly with a baseball bat, especially when it was _metal._

“Stupid clingy but not clingy werewolves,” Stiles muttered, stalking toward Roscoe. 

No one followed him out of the loft so he was pretty sure he was getting a little over-irritated about nothing. But Derek had a way of getting under his skin that the other betas didn’t. And it didn’t help that Stiles was pretty sure the entire ‘training session’ was just payback for how close Stiles had been trying to get to Derek lately.

If the man didn’t like it, he could’ve just said something. He didn’t have to beat Stiles to half-unconsciousness and then insult his baseball bats.

Stupid clingy but not clingy werewolves.

His dad was still on a shift when he got home, so Stiles was free to slam as many doors as he wanted. He stalked up to his room and slammed that door extra hard, and then flailed back so hard as he turned around, that he rammed against the door and gave himself a whole new array of bruises.

Because Derek was sitting on the edge of his bed. Derek Hale was sitting on the edge of his bed with one eyebrow raised and Stiles didn’t even know how he’d gotten to his house first—

Oh, right. Werewolf.

Stupid grumpy growly werewolf that Stiles was currently very pissed at, that is.

“Get out of my house, asshole.”

“Stiles.”

“Don’t ‘Stiles’ me, Derek! I’m pissed at you!”

Derek looked at him for a long moment. Then he dropped his eyes to the floor. “Sorry.”

Stiles blinked. He hadn’t expected that.

“I wasn’t trying to call you out in front of the entire pack,” Derek said quietly. “But… it’s my job as your Alpha to make sure—”

“Please don’t finish that sentence.”

Derek glowered at the floor. Stiles sighed and moved over, plopping down at his side. Derek glanced at the few inches between them and then started to shift sideways, and Stiles caught his arm before he could pull completely away. 

“What the hell is up with that?”

Derek froze. His face pale and his shoulders went rigid, but he still wouldn’t meet Stiles’s eyes. Quietly, Stiles curled his fingers into the man’s sleeve.

“Derek, why do you always pull away from me?”

The man didn’t answer for a long moment. Just when Stiles thought he wasn’t going to get an answer, heart sinking into his shoes, Derek shifted a little and raised his eyes. “It’s not… right.”

Stiles’s stomach did drop into his shoes then. “What?”

“It’s not right,” Derek said quietly. “You get close to me and then you smell like me and— and it’s not right. You’re not supposed to do that.”

“Do what, attempt to cuddle?”

Derek’s eyes snapped up and rounded. Stiles gave him a flat look.

“I was joking, Sourwolf.”

“Why.”

“Why what? Why am I joking, why am I attempting to cuddle, or why am I downright pissed that you won’t let me do any of those things?”

“Why do you _care?”_

Stiles stared at him. Derek fidgeted nervously and his fingers grasped at Stiles’s sheets, and Stiles realized then that he was dealing with an idiot. None of this was Stiles’s fault. Not exactly, at least.

It was Derek’s. Because Derek was a big bad grumpy Alpha of Beacon Hills who didn’t know how to accept the fact that he deserved nice things.

“Oh my god,” Stiles said. Before Derek could react, Stiles was tackling him to the mattress and the man went shock-still. Red eyes stared at him and Stiles smirked, before rearranging himself so he was curled around Derek, the same way the betas often curled around him, and he was pretty sure there was no way Derek was escaping.

The man didn’t move a muscle. Stiles wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. But then, when he finally spoke, his voice was hoarse.

“Stiles, what are you doing?”

“You can put this all on me,” Stiles said, burying his face into Derek’s neck. “Consider it like this: sometimes I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?”

“I—” the man tried to shift and Stiles squeaked as stubble rubbed over his forehead. Once more, Derek went stock-still. “Stiles?”

“That tickles.” 

“... Really, Stiles?”

“See,” Stiles mumbled into his neck. “I’m trying to teach you a lesson here. So you’re not allowed to move until I have cuddled everything that is Derek Hale and when we have a movie night tomorrow night, you’re going to let me sit right up against your side. Or nearly in your lap, if Erica decides to go with a horror film.”

He half expected Derek to throw him off. Or maybe rip out his throat. But the man only went lax with a sigh. “You’re an idiot.”

“That’s fair.”

“If you mention this to anyone, I’m going to kill you.”

“Also fair.”

Derek was quiet for a moment. Then he shifted and pulled Stiles futher into his chest, breaths warm against his forehead. This time, Stiles did shiver. He felt like he had the right to. “Thank you.”

Stiles didn’t say a word. Just smiled against his skin. 

Because the thing was, Stiles knew werewolves were clingy.

He’d come to realize this from the moment he started spending more time at the loft. There was always a werewolf near or around or on him. Like, literally on top of him. Erica would lay across him with Stiles was relaxing, Isaac would curl up in his lap when Stiles was playing video games, Boyd would use Stiles as a pillow and knock out for three hours straight. 

Stiles had come accustomed to the fact that werewolves were clingy.

Except for Derek Hale.

Derek Hale was an enigma. Derek Hale was a giant fluffy asshole that made things much more difficult than they had to be. But Stiles was determined to train the big bad Alpha of Beacon Hills to accept some love.

Yeah, love, totally love. He was a sap, okay? Sue him.

It started with the little things. And might have ended up with the Sheriff stumbling across his son and Derek Hale cuddling fast asleep on Stiles’s bed four hours later. 

Stiles decided they were both idiots, then.

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt; "“Sometimes I just want to cuddle, okay? Is that so bad?” and “That tickles!” and I had so much. Fluff prompts are my favorite! Of course, I'd love to hear what you guys all thought! Y'all are amazing <3
> 
> Come hang with me on Tumblr? 
> 
> [the dumpster](https://when-she-writes-stuff.tumblr.com/)


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